


A Whole new meaning to Tailing a Suspect!

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Corm approves of the outfit choices!, Cormoran is always helpful!, Dress Up, F/M, Hen Do, Not what Ilsa and Robin expected!, bunny girl tails, eyes on the prize, going commando, late night lifts, the joy of a heated car seat, uncomfortable tails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 12:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: A silly one shot. Ilsa and Robin attend a Hen Do and have to dress up - the costumes are not as expected and Strike is called upon to collect them. Robin can't get her costume off.......there is only one person who can help....although the fact that she's not wearing any underwear isn't helpful!





	A Whole new meaning to Tailing a Suspect!

Strike wasn’t sure why he had agreed to this, but he was driving his way through the London streets in his BMW at 1am.  
Actually, he knew exactly why he was doing it…..Robin had called and asked.

She and Ilsa had been attending a hen party – one of Ilsa’s work colleagues.   
Nick had convinced Robin to convince Ilsa to attend it and Ilsa had agreed but only on the understanding that Robin would go too.  
It had all been discussed over the almost ritualistic ‘Friday night curry’ at Casa Herbert, after 3+ glasses of wine, and Robin had said yes.

Over the following week Strike had become party to quite a lot of the detail of the event as it was shared via a succession of emails and phone calls.   
He knew for example that it was being held at a hotel on the south side of town, although they weren’t actually staying over there; he knew that everyone was going to be dressing up as an animal (on the basis that the lady concerned was marrying a vet!) – seemed like a ridiculous concept to Cormoran, and he’d voiced his opinion on the matter rather loudly whilst preparing his creosote-like brew in the office kitchen as Robin bemoaned the increasing hideousness of this enforced, female only purgatory.  
He knew she’d had to give her dress size details to the organiser who was providing the costumes – Robin and Ilsa had giggled that at least they’d be warm, presumably sporting some ridiculous fake fur onesie; Strike had suggested they’d all look like they were performing the story of Noah’s Ark and they’d all giggled; Robin saying she’d be anything but not a frigging unicorn!

He also now knew that Robin and Ilsa were bored and slightly drunk, hence why Robin had rung, giggling to find out how many beers he’d drunk (1!) and begging; with Ilsa in back up pretending to play an apparently badly tuned violin; him to come and collect them from where they had ended up – at a bar down the road from the hotel.  
“And hurry up, ‘cos we’re bloody freezing!” Robin’s subtle Yorkshire drawl always became more pronounced when she’d had a few drinks.  
“I thought you were dressed in onesies?” he’d asked as he walked towards where he’d managed to park, close to the office and therefore his flat.   
“Er….not quite. It’ll become clear when you get here…..and don’t say a word!” she’d added in a slightly warning tone.  
Strike had hung up and shook his head, his mind boggling at what state he’d find the pair of them in.  
He’d programmed his satnav and was now only 6 or 7 minutes away from the destination, traffic permitting.

Robin and Ilsa had decided to stand shivering outside the bar rather than endure any more of the open mouthed stares and arse gropings they’d suffered inside – although at least it had been warm!  
“I hope he hurries up,” Ilsa hopped from one foot to the other, although glancing across at Robin’s goose-pimpled flesh on display she was at least thankful that her costume covered slightly more of her and gave a little more protection from both the cold and the eyes of lascivious men.  
“We’re never going to hear the end of this,” she mumbled, shivering and stamping her feet, “Why the hell did we actually agree to wear these things?”  
Ilsa shook her head, “We are adult, responsible, intelligent women…..why on earth did we feel like we had to go along with this?” and she gesticulated her black costume. “I am thoroughly disappointed in myself…..and you, for letting me get drawn in!”  
Robin turned to her incredulously, “I let YOU get drawn in? Ilsa, you were one of the crowd actually stamping and cheering as they made me put this bloody get up!” and she indicated up and down her body, “…..and I could have said no! Every fibre in me was telling me, ‘nothing good can come of this just say no!’ but you were there, all pleading eyes like, I have to work with these people,” and she shook her head, feeling like a total fraud for having been sucked into female bullying.

A group of 3 men (probably about 19 year olds actually) came along the pavement, caught sight of them and made several leering comments. Robin turned and faced them, hands on hips, “Oh bugger off, I’ve got cheese in my fridge older than you,” and both Ilsa and she creased up in shared amusement as one of them walked straight into the doorframe as he tried to stare and walk simultaneously.

It was at this point that Strike pulled up on the opposite side of the road and did an almost comical double take,  
“Bloo-dy he-ll!” he gasped outloud taking in the sight of Ilsa clad in a tight, black, all in one jumpsuit complete with pointed ear headband, wired, furry tail and drawn on black nose and whiskers.   
But his main focus was on Robin.

It was she who spotted his car and the pair came striding across to him, Ilsa sliding into the back seat and urging Robin into the front:  
“You need the benefit of that heated seat!” she shouted practically as Robin slid into the leather seat beside an open mouthed and speechless Strike.  
He couldn’t stop himself staring at her nylon clad legs……God they were long and shapely and only stopped at her…..well….at the rest of her costume!

They were clipping on seatbelts, Robin turning the heated seat up to maximum and wiggling, then wincing in discomfort.  
“Bloody tail!” she muttered.

Finally Strike managed to construct a voiceable thought:  
“Not onesies then?” he flicked his eyes up and down Robin’s bunny girl costume and snorted a laugh at Ilsa hissing in the backseat looking every inch the black cat she was dressed as.  
“I did say not to say a word!” Robin turned and faced Strike slightly, noticing his gaze lingered on the sight of the creamy mounds of her chest which were almost begging to be commented on due to their presentation, front and centre.  
“The costume is wired….I can’t make them look…..less……” and she shrugged, grimacing, and tried to pull the black, satin fabric further over herself.

Strike just laughed, mainly to cover a groan that he couldn’t quite contain, and shook his head, “Why the hell did you go along with it?” he asked, focussing on turning the car around and pulling into the flow of traffic.  
Ilsa responded, “We’ve already had this conversation – we are bad feminists who have been subverted by peer pressure……but we need to go back to the hotel and pick up our stuff, then can we please go home Corm?”  
He grinned and nodded, slightly distracted by the swishing sound of Robins’ sheer limbs crossing and uncrossing beside him.

“So other than the costumes, how did it go?” Strike asked, to generate conversation and ease the electricity within the front part of the cabin.  
Both women groaned, “We felt ancient Corm,” Ilsa moaned, “Seriously, I was old enough to be their grandmother! I mean I know Cara is younger; she’s not long since qualified, but Christ, she had her younger sister there and about 6 of her mates….they’re all about 20!”  
Robin nodded beside him, “And talk about LOUD! God, did every single comment have to be accompanied by shrieks and clapping?! I wanted to slap them!”  
Ilsa continued, “And everywhere we went they insisted on standing at the bar…..I just want a seat in a pub, is that too much to ask Corm?”  
“And when were they planning on eating? I downed 3 bags of crisps in that last place to stop myself passing out….they don’t eat!” Robin was shaking her head at Cormoran as if telling him top secrets.  
Strike just drove along, listening and laughing, highly amused. “You both sound like me when I’m in one of my cantankerous moods about youth today!”

He pulled up at the hotel; “Do you need me to come in or shall I just turn the car around and wait here?” he wasn’t sure how long they would take, not sure whether they’d get changed.  
“We haven’t actually got a key. Only Jaz had one” Ilsa announced from the back seat.  
“We’ll manage,” Robin confidently replied; “I’ve got into trickier places,” she flashed a smile at Strike as she released the seatbelt clip.  
“Just put your ears back on and wiggle your tail a bit….trust me, you’ll get whatever you want,” Cormoran grinned having glanced inside and noticing it was a male on reception.  
“Corm, how predictable!” Ilsa chastised him. “Just because it’s a man…..he might be gay!”  
“In which case he’ll find it ‘too cute for words’ and still give in,” Strike laughed, “Hurry up!”  
Ilsa and Robin clambered out and assured him they wouldn’t be long.

He began to turn the wheel and reverse, but paused just long enough to shine the headlights on them as they mounted the 8 steps in front of the entrance.   
The resultant growl caused by the sight of Robin’s fluffy white tail wiggling from side to side as she trotted up was absorbed by the leather of the car interior and he gave himself a talking to, “Don’t be a stupid tosser and get a grip….just drive ‘em both home…..and don’t think too much about Robin being dressed as a Bunny Girl on Monday!”

Robin and Ilsa discussed their tactic as they entered the hotel, “I can’t be arsed getting changed, shall we just grab our stuff?” Ilsa suggested.  
Robin nodded beside her, “Yeah, right, just go along with me!” and Robin instantly took on a slightly wobbly, slumping manner. She announced herself into the hotel reception with a loud, “Ta da!!!” and giggled her way across to poor ‘Dev’ on the reception desk.  
Strike had turned the car around and was smoking out of the open window, casually observing Robin and Ilsa at ‘work’ and smiling smugly as a few minutes later they followed the guy from reception towards the lifts.

About 5 minutes later Robin and Ilsa emerged, still clad in their ridiculous outfits but carrying armfuls of their regular clothes.  
They flung the items into the boot and slid back into their previous positions.   
“Home?” Strike asked, and received grunts of approval from both women.

The dulcet tones of late night radio drifted on in the background as the car wound it’s way along the streets of London, edging closer to Octavia Street.   
Robin was warming up and turned down the heated seat slightly, nestling back into the leather.   
Strike glanced across at her several times, he felt he had to – when else was he going to get the chance to see so much of Robin’s skin on display, clad so sexily.

Strike had that quite predictable penchant for the whole Bunny Girl outfit; black satin corsetry, sheer black tights, those little cuffs and the collar and bow tie…..and then the whole tail and ears thing. What was it about those?   
They were ridiculous in their own right, but when combined with the rest of the outfit…..well, it did things….things that he shouldn’t be considering doing to his co-worker and business partner….even though she was now single…..and so was he!

He focussed back on the satnav which seemed to be taking him an odd direction to reach Nick and Ilsa’s house.  
“There are temporary traffic lights on the main road, it’ll try and take you round them…ignore it and go the usual way,” Ilsa instructed from the backseat.  
A few minutes later he was pulling up outside number 80.   
Ilsa told them to stay put and rummaged in the boot to gather her clothes. Closing the boot hatch she blew kisses to them both. Strike waited until she’d gone inside before driving off.

The cabin of the car suddenly felt much smaller and intimate without Ilsa in it; and even though the pair of them had spent many hours on surveillance in the same vehicle this somehow felt oddly different.   
Strike cleared his throat and Robin switched position in her seat, her nylon covered legs stretching out into the footwell as she wriggled uncomfortably.  
“You look uncomfy…..you warm enough?” he asked, glancing across at her as they stopped at some traffic lights, his right arm resting casually on the inner door panel, head resting on his palm.  
She continued to shift her position in the seat, “It’s the sodding tail! Ilsa pinned it on and it’s gone right through to..... what’s underneath….I’m attached to it! It’s pinned onto my tights and I can’t reach round to get the damn thing off!” Strike was sniggering beside her as she thrust up her hands in despair, “I haven’t been able to pee all night either because of it….I should have asked Ilsa to take it off earlier!”

Strike continued driving along, he was slightly side tracked now…..so how was she going to take it off?  
“Erm, so what you gonna do? Is Marvin in….he’ll help I’m sure…..he’s probably worn the same outfit at some point in his rather splendid career in drag!” he suggested, good naturedly.  
Robin however grimaced and buried her head in her hands, her bunny ears looking rather sad and somehow endearing askew in her honey-gold hair.  
“He’s not in, gone away for the weekend with new guy, they are very loved up….and loud!” she added matter of factly.  
“So will it come off if you take the whole thing off?” Strike asked, talking mainly to try to make his mind focus on anything apart from the fact that he could potentially be about to be called upon to poke about at Robin’s satin clad rear end to remove a fluffy bunny tail.  
Robin shrugged helplessly and puffed out her cheeks, “Lord knows?! I didn’t fancy trying that in the pub toilet…..when we stop at mine can you have a look and unpin it?” she asked, flashing him a look of such honest despair and innocence that he knew he was doomed.  
“Yeah, if you need me to,” he stated, absently, flicking the indicator and turning into the road containing Robin’s shared flat. “Parking might be a bit of a struggle though,” and he glanced purposefully ahead.   
Robin joined in his side to side gaze, trying to spot any form of parking place; legal or otherwise. There was nothing.  
“You’ll have to try the place down at the end – I know the code,” she suggested and indicated a small parking place belonging to a large building with an automated barrier.  
Strike pulled up the car and tapped in the 6 digits she instructed. There were a couple of spots vacant and he reversed into one unclipping his seat belt as Robin followed suit.

“Have you got your coat with you?” Robin asked as she shivered, collecting her clothes from the boot, which were not much better in terms of protection from the cold then her current outfit.  
Strike shook his head, a rueful look on his face, “The one outing I didn’t bother with it!” he indicated the deep, burgundy coloured half zip sweater he was wearing.  
“Bugger!” Robin huffed.   
“Come on, I’ll walk up with you….it’s too far on any night but especially when you look like…..that!” he inhaled sharply as she reached up and slammed the boot hatch, almost coming out of the top of her corsetry in the process.

So Strike and the Bunny Girl strolled up the main street, receiving numerous looks from passers by.  
They naturally started discussing work and the minutes sped by until they were outside of Robin’s block of flats.

“Do you fancy a cuppa as thanks for the lift….and unpinning my tail?” and she wiggled, saucily but with her tongue firmly in her cheek as she unlocked the outer door.  
Strike nodded, working on the assumption that the light would be better inside, so he’d have to fumble less.

Thankfully Robin’s flat could be accessed by a lift, and it whisked them upwards, Robin fumbling with her keys beneath the pile of her clothes which were a jumbled heap in her arms.  
One small piece of black fabric fell to the floor as the lift doors slid open. She bent to retrieve it, “Can’t go leaving my knickers in the lift can I?” she giggled, swiping them up, “Are you coming?” she directed the open question at Strike who was stood statue-like in the hallway.  
His frantic brain was trying to piece together the information.   
Robin was clutching her knickers along with her clothes….did that mean she wasn’t wearing any beneath the already ridiculously sexy outfit.  
He gulped visibly and followed her.   
The phrase ‘Don’t be a stupid fucker’ seemed moot by this point!

Robin sniggered as she unlocked her flat door and flicked on the lights, “Can’t believe I’ve been going commando all night on top of everything else! I’ll get the kettle on and then can you please get this tail unpinned so I can pee and change?”

Cormoran may have nodded…..he may have twisted his neck to make it crack and clenched his fists too…..he could just as easily have drooled a pool of his own spit on the wooden floor and panted like a dog for all he knew….his thoughts were not exactly clear at that moment.

True to her word, Robin filled the kettle and flicked it on and then stood with her hands on the back of a dining chair, sticking out her bottom in a completely unprovocative manner.  
Strike advanced towards her, he would NOT think about the fact that he would be touching her deliciously curved arse, and that she was pantless beneath the satin…..he’d just focus on removing a safety pin….like a bomb disposal expert…..eyes on the prize!  
Shit, why had that statement come into his mind?   
He couldn’t take his bloody eyes off it if he wanted to!

“Right, apologies if my hands are cold,” he grinned and bent slightly, twisting the powder puff to the left so that he could see the exposed safety pin.   
Robin twisted slightly to see what he was doing and try to offer guidance, which wasn’t a help to his fingers at all.  
“Will you stop wriggling! This is the smallest bloody safety pin!” he grumbled.   
“Do you want this outfit? I mean, can I just yank the damn thing off?” he asked after fiddling for several minutes.  
Robin raised her eyebrows as she looked down at him, “I have no desire to wear this outfit again….but bear in mind I’ve already told you, I haven’t got any knickers on and if you pull it off it might rip the fabric!”

Strike flicked his eyes closed at the same moment that the kettle clicked off, puffed out his cheeks and resumed his attention to the miniscule piece of metal hidden amongst the white pompom fluff. Under no circumstances could he risk ripping that black satin!

After a little more fumbling, during which his fingers squeezed and caressed her backside so much – in any other circumstances it would have been erotic in the extreme; but his leg was killing him due to his squatting position.  
Robin huffed slightly, “What are you doing down there? I need a pee!”  
Cormoran glared up at her, “Do you want me to jab you in the arse with a pin?” Shut up and stand still!” he grumbled, pushing her hips round quite roughly, making her take a slight inhalation of breath at his masterfulness in the situation.

“Got it!” he finally breathed, groaning as he stood and stretched out his cramped leg and knees.   
He handed the offending thing to Robin who hurled it across the room towards the bathroom, “Make the tea!” she shouted over her shoulder en route to the loo.  
Strike assumed a mock grumble, “Bloody hell; take my tail off, make the tea, bossy cow!” but he dutifully went to the kitchen and reboiled the kettle whilst finding mugs and tea bags. 

He was removing the tea bag from her cup and adding milk when she ambled back into the room; now clad in a pair of slouchy navy blue pyjamas, but her bunny ears still adorning her head.  
Cormoran smirked at the image and passed over her tea whilst mashing his own teabag to achieve his required strength and shade.

“Thanks for coming for us,” she said, softly as she settled down in the multicoloured armchair in the lounge leaving the sofa for Strike to sprawl on.   
“No problem……it was quite amusing watching you dispatch poor gangs of leering boys,” he smirked, sipping his tea and making a small noise of satisfaction.  
Robin looked quizzical as she thought back on the evening, “Oh, did you see those three outside the bar? They were teenagers!” and she rolled her eyes.  
Strike nodded ruefully and pursed his lips, “Can’t blame ‘em for trying based on what the pair of you looked like!”  
Robin glared at him, “You’re going to remind me of this a lot, aren’t you?” she tried to remain serious, but sniggered as she met his mock serious face.  
“I’m trying to work out whether there could be some professional reason for it’s use…..maybe if we need to do some surveillance in an escort bar?” and he smiled one of his crinkle eyed smiles at her. “Does bring a whole new meaning to tailing a suspect!”  
She pursed her lips back at him, “Nah…..it’ll never fit ya!” and drained her tea as he lobbed a cushion across at her.

“I need the loo before heading off,” Cormoran hauled himself off the sofa and found the loo while Robin ferried the mugs into the kitchen.

“Right, see you on Monday Ms Ellacott! Ears optional!” he grinned, tweaking the lopsided headband as he opened the door.  
Robin did that ‘glancing upwards to try and see even though it made the headband move backwards’ thing and dragged her hand up to remove them.  
“Good night, Cormoran……and thanks again, for everything,” she smiled, hanging onto the door with him now standing at a ‘safe’ distance (arm’s length was safe by his own standards!)  
“You’re welcome, anytime I can help. You know how much I love animals!” and he waved over his shoulder as he ambled towards the lifts, dragging a large hand through his unruly hair.

Robin watched him for a very brief moment, a smile remained on her lips.   
She locked the door and flicked off lights before heading for a final pee and bed.  
She picked up the discarded corset and tights, which had a ladder across the rear where the safety pin had tugged, and placed them with the bunny ear headband.   
She glanced around for the tail but couldn’t see it, but sleep was beginning to take over. She’d locate it tomorrow.

Strike walked back down the road to the car briskly; the temperature had dropped and now he too was annoyed that he didn’t have his ‘ever present’ overcoat with him.  
His car keys were in one of his jeans pockets.  
The other contained a scrunched up bunny girl tail – he had no idea what he planned to do with it…..but the thought of it there just made him smile.


End file.
